


ペイル・コクーン

by teethflower (bluedreaming)



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/teethflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's too easy to think when there's nothing else to do. Against a backdrop of stars, Yamada and Yuto share the same space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ペイル・コクーン

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alchemicink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemicink/gifts).



> To my dear recipient, I hope this is something you can like. Thank you so much to everyone who gave me so much help with everything; any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Thank you so much!
> 
> Note: I don't know what happened but poor Yuto's name ended up as Yuta in the later sections—thanks so much to the person who pointed it out! I hope I caught all of them. ~~Pokes autocorrect fiercely.~~

Their ship, a sleek metal form trailing gossamer mirrors propelling the ship forward by way of solar pressure, drifts through the endless night of space, stars twinkling through the void and growing into suns.

It's a large ship, for just two people, but now that fuel isn't an issue anymore it's nice to be able to spread out, take time off from a familiar face. After over a decade, even your best friend can become your enemy.

Yamada gets out of bed, pausing to sit on the edge and reach his arms up, stretching up towards the ceiling, even though up is an illusion, a mental construct where only the centrifugal force of the rotation of the internal hull of the ship is keeping down down and up up. Illusions are important sometimes.

 _I wonder where Yuto is?_ He pulls a dressing gown over his pajamas because the narrow corridors can get a little cold, especially between solar systems, and they're floating adrift right now, moving forward at a mind-bending speed that's still imperceptible against the distance stars.

The universe is so empty, when you think about it, tiny specks of matter floating adrift like dust in an empty sky. Sometimes, even though Yamada isn't alone in this ship, even though Yuto is here too, breathing the same air, wandering the same space, it feels like they're so far away.

Yuto is sitting at the table in the galley, drinking coffee from a porcelain cup that he insisted on bringing along. Yamada wonders how much coffee they have left before they have to wait for the hybrid coffee plants to be ready for harvesting again. He doesn't say anything, just watches Yuto whose eyes flicker over the screen next to the coffee cup. _Somewhere, in the far distance, so far that it's like the past, history is happening._

Yamada looks at this harvest's dwindling supply of coffee and pours a scoop into the bean grinder anyway. The light work of turning the handle, the sound of the beans being reduced to even grounds, is almost meditative in the silence. Yuto doesn't look up, not even when Yamada slides next to him on the bench, reading over his shoulder for a few moments before his eyes drift off to the stars outside. It will be a while before they reach the next star system; for right now it's just Yamada, Yuto, and the silence between them.

 

There isn't really day or night on the ship, just an artificially imposed dichotomy of wake time and sleep time, a kind of lingering rhythm that gives their formless time, an endless voyage, structure. At first Yamada had stuck to the rhythm with the persistent tenacity of a kindergarten-aged child, but after the days stretched into months and years, the time meaningless, relative to nothing in their vicinity, only the vaguest tie linking them to an Earth that had all the legitimacy of a dream, floating in the subconscious while waking, he no longer woke with the turning of the hour and retired with the waning of the constructed day, counted work hours coming to a close. There's a kind of magic, there's always been, even back on Earth in his last lifetime, studying all night, catching cat naps during the day, doing crazy things like playing the saxophone at three in the morning.

They don't really discuss it, but there's a kind of pattern that evolves between the two of them, intersecting at points but never running in parallel. Of course, all bets are off when they're actually in the vicinity of a star, planetary systems to examine through the instruments, so much data crunching as they scan for signs of extraterrestrial life or, falling short of that, human-habitable planets, dropping radio markers on planets with promise.

They don't talk about how long they've been travelling, or how many markers they still have left to drop before they can go home, and Yamada has stopped counting. He wonders, sometimes, whether Yuto still is.

Coffee cup in hand, he wanders over to the coffee seedlings, still sprouting green under the lights that are really just amplified starlight, bounced down mirror tubes. The hybrids grow quickly, but it will still be a while before they're at the harvest stage. Sipping the bitter beverage, he lets it pool over his tongue, as if to remind himself of what it's supposed to taste like, for later when he's waiting again. Here, on the ship, there are only small things to do and the way the day and night break down, hours and minutes and seconds, the time becomes less relevant than the frequency. There are just things that need to be done, and Yuto and Yamada do them, in a kind of delicate dance through the space they share.

It's possible, though, for a chemistry to become so natural that it ceases to be organic and starts being a cage; calcifying bones before all movement is stagnated.

 

Yamada remembers Space Academy, the words of the name still capitalized even in his head. It had always been the Big Place, his dream, the almost unattainable goal.

"Just remember," his mom had said, after he sat the entrance examination, "Even if you don't get accepted, we still love you, okay?" Her smile had been soft, affectionate, as she brushed her fingers through his hair, the fine black strands falling behind her fingers as though they'd never been ruffled.

Yamada had gone to his room and played his saxophone to destress, the one other big love in his life, the thing that he would have to give up for Space Academy. You couldn't do both. He heard his mother at one point, standing in the hallway past his doorway, just out of sight, and he played her favourite song for maybe the last time.

_My baby lies over the ocean,_  
_my baby lies over the sea._  
_My baby lies over the ocean—_  
_Oh, bring back my baby to me. . ._

When they came for you, they came quickly, the acceptance letter only a few days before the final interview and then Yamada found himself packing up his saxophone, waving goodbye to his mother who stood, alone in the doorway, a pale shadow in the early morning light.

Yamada remembers being scared but excited, a nervous happiness flickering in his stomach, like he'd gotten what he wished for but wasn't sure, in the aftermath, if he remembered wishing for it after all.

 

They happen to brush shoulders in the hallway, Yuto heading for the stern, presumably the solar sails, and Yamada to the bridge, not for any particular reason but merely to sit behind the control banks and remind himself what he's here for.

"Hi," he says, and Yuto nods. There's a small smile on his face, and Yamada wonders why he's smiling. If he has anything to with it. _Stop dreaming._

A few steps down the corridor he stops, listening to Yuto's footsteps fading into the distance, before he continues to the bridge. Staring at the dark, tiny tears in the fabric of the void spread out like stars, Yamada remembers the other time he'd heard Yuto's footsteps fading away like that.

Space Academy had been everything he thought it would be, exhilarating and challenging and just so much fun, studying and playing around with other people who shared some of his same interests, rather than being labeled at school, "the one with his head in the stars" though that was infinitely better than what some of the kids at school were called; Yamada always counted his blessings. Always. And here at Space Academy, maybe he wasn't the smart one anymore, no longer a sun amidst stars but rather just another star in a light-scattered sky, but it was nice, not being lonely.

Maybe he missed his saxophone a lot, and his mother always, but it was okay. Going home for the holidays was expensive and rather than use up their money like that, Yamada would just talk to her over video feed whenever their schedules matched, telling her about all the fun things he was learning, this kid Chinen who was in his class even though he was a year younger, Keito, another classmate who would go into massive cramming sessions before examinations even though he always did great, but mostly he seemed to talk about Yuto. Nakajima Yuto who was Yamada's age but three levels up, with the older kids like Takaki and Inoo, students who Yamada didn't see much of, but Yuto was his age and so Yamada somehow started paying attention.

"You sound like you admire this Yuto a lot," his mother smiled, her face wrinkling up into soft laughter lines and Yamada flushed a little, eyes flicking away.

"I just think he's cool," he said, though it felt like he was leaving something out.

The truth was that Yamada looked at Yuto and saw, in a lot of ways, the person he wanted to be. The person he wanted to be but wasn't.

A star. 

Now they're together, here in the ship, so far away from home and school and friends and all the little competitions and exams and rivalries seem so petty, when Yamada looks out at space, at the yawning vastness of nothing.

Sometimes he wonders what he was racing for, back at home, at school, if when he got it, it would only be empty.

 

There's a message on the interlink when Yamada pads out of bed on bare feet, chilly in just his pajamas, but strangely restless. He can't explain the feeling, so he doesn't try, even to himself. He's stopped trying to say anything, when he can't find the words.

Please proceed to Sector ZH-5091 as a slight anomaly in solar pressure has been detected. Y.T.

Yamada smiles, picturing Takaki typing out this message, or probably dictating it to a cyber-aid. The image makes him smile, reminds him that there are actual people back there, at the other end of the universe. It's a good reminder, one that he needed. _I'm not alone._

Yuto wanders up to the bridge after a while, and Yamada looks at him for a while, sneaking glances as Yuto looks at the screens, humming faintly when he sees the message.

"Looks like today will be interesting," Yuto says, and there's a smile in his eye and Yamada feels like he has to say what he's been thinking about for so long. It's been sitting at the tip of his tongue, lingering in his mouth, brushing his soft palate whenever he breathes and its taste has become a part of the landscape of his sense, but maybe it's time to let it go.

"Yuto," Yamada says, turning in the the seat to look at him directly, and even though they're at least an arm's breadth apart, it feels strangely intimate.

"Yes?" Yuto asks, and Yamada almost misses it, a flicker in Yuto's eyes, but he doesn't, because this time he's actually looking. Not at a star that he tried to outshine, back at Space Academy, but as a person who's sitting across from him, hair tousled from bed, pillow creases on his face, a mouth that would probably smell like morning breath if he leaned in that close.

He doesn't lean in that close, but opens his mouth instead.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, and it feels like letting go. His fingers relax from where they were bunched up in the fabric of his pajama pants, and he takes a deep breath.

"What are you sorry for?" Yuto asks, and Yamada isn't quite sure what Yuto is asking, because it's obvious, right? _Is it?_

Yamada remembers studying so hard at Space Academy, staying awake at darkout, lingering after class, and then when he landed a spot in the Outer Exploration program, finally on Yuto's level, the not-so-secret object of his admiration, Yuto had gotten sick.

 

Yamada was alone with seniors in a brand new program and he had thought he would have Yuto but Yuto wasn't there, and even when he came back, somehow managing to slip back into the advanced program with only minor difficulties, it wasn't the same.

And Yamada had somehow hated him for it. Even if wasn't fair, even if it didn't make any sense. It was kind of like now, like this whole expedition, trying so hard to qualify for this opportunity and then sitting here, years and years and years and empty planets and too much time to think.

Yamada always loses the destination because he gets caught up in the journey. There's no one to blame but himself.

"I'm sorry for being jealous," Yamada says, looking at Yuto and not at the ground, at the stars, at everything else like he wants to. "I'm sorry for being angry with you and not telling you why."

He's surprised when Yuto just smiles at him, reaching out to flick him on the forehead; Yamada raises a hand to rub his forehead, blinking.

"I'll tell you a little secret," Yuto says, and winks, but his words aren't joking. "I was jealous of you too."

Yamada just stares at him, the way the light falls over his face, leaving shadows in the corner of his mouth. _You were jealous of me?_ It doesn't make any sense.

"You saw something you wanted and just worked your way to it," Yuto says, waving his hand as he tries to explain. "It might have looked impossible but you did it anyway."

He smiles then, a big smile, the kind Yamada hasn't seen in a long time, and he can feel a matching smile spread across his own face.

"So Sector ZH-5091 then?" he says, tapping the keys on the screen. "Do you think Takaki is right?" Yuto shrugs.

"Maybe yes, maybe no," he says, "but I could use a change of scenery." He beckons out the curved window, and Yamada laughs as the solar sails furl. As they transition into warp drive, he takes a deep breath, and even though it's the same recycled air he's been breathing for years now, it tastes fresher on his tongue.

Sometimes, like now, the journey is the destination, and that's okay.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the OVA [Pale Cocoon](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pale_Cocoon).
> 
> I'm sorry I couldn't write jazz player au; this is perhaps an alternative universe of that, where Yamada gets his head caught in the stars rather than the notes.


End file.
